Blessing
by Aksannyi
Summary: Ziva is getting married, and her aunt gives her a letter her father had written in the event that he was not alive to see it. Eli gives her his blessing, but it's not the way she had expected. Angst, but ends positively, and always, always Tiva.
1. Chapter 1

**One day, I wondered, "What would happen if Eli David had written Ziva a letter in the event that she was getting married, wishing her well with Tony? And what if it wasn't Tony she was marrying?" And this fic was born.**

* * *

 **Blessing**

* * *

Tony sat between Gibbs and Abby, suspiciously eyeing the massive rock sitting on his partner's left hand. It was far too gaudy for her, too over the top, but then again, she didn't seem to mind it too much, sitting across the table and smiling at her fiancé, Jason, who'd given it to her.

He just didn't like the guy. Ziva had asked him why once, and he hadn't had an answer. He just didn't like him. It wasn't until he'd gotten home that same night that he had realized he was jealous, jealous as hell that this man had come in out of nowhere and swept his ninja off her feet.

That he'd waited too long, and he'd missed his chance.

And now here he sat, eyeing her as inconspicuously as he could, as she smiled into the eyes of some other man who'd put a ring on her finger, a promise of a life. For at least the seventy-fifth time since he'd arrived, he wondered what the _hell_ he was doing here, at this party, celebrating an engagement he'd dreaded since the day he'd heard of its existence. He hadn't really wanted to come to this thing, but he cared for Ziva, more than he wanted to admit, and he'd be damned if he'd let her down by skipping out on such an important event in her life.

And here he was, feeling like that stupid ring was actively choking all of the air from his system. He sighed, wondering how long of an appearance would be acceptable before he could skip out and go home.

It was going to be a long evening.

* * *

The party had only been going for about an hour before Ziva began to get antsy. She wasn't used to having all this attention, and honestly, she didn't like it. Her aunts had insisted though, and because she didn't want to argue, she'd gone along with it and invited everyone important to her.

But she was already getting weary. She wanted everyone to leave so she could open up all of the cards people had brought. Such an American thing, she thought to herself, to bring folded cardboard to someone in lieu of speaking their well wishes directly.

Her aunt Selma motioned to her to join her in the kitchen, and since she'd been looking for an escape - she'd already used the restroom three times - she took it without hesitation, squeezing Jason's hand lightly before heading to the other room.

"You did not have to do all of this," she began, but was soon interrupted.

"Ah, Ziva, yes. I do know how you despise the attention. But Nettie and I appreciate that you allowed us this indulgence, our only niece." Ziva had no response, so she remained silent.

"Anyway. I have something for you. It is from your _Abba_ , he wanted me to give this to you, should you ever find yourself about to be married."

Ziva was surprised at the emotion she felt swelling up inside her. "Why would he..." she began, but trailed off.

"Because your father knew he might not live to see it happen, and I would guess that there are some things he wanted to say to you. Here, take it," she added, handing the letter over.

"Thank you, aunt." Selma leaned over and kissed her niece on the cheek, and then walked out of the kitchen. Ziva knew she should wait until later, but she couldn't help but wonder what it was her father wanted to say to her, and opened the letter immediately, her eyes glossing over as she eyed his familiar scratch, something she'd never known she missed until she saw it again, practically feeling his presence in the room as she began to read.

 _"My Ziva,_

 _You are reading this, which means that I was right, I would not live to see the day that you would marry. Oh, my Ziva. I do wish that I could be there to walk with you toward your husband and dance with you afterward. Know that I have dreamed of seeing you happy for many years. I have no doubt that you will succeed where I failed._

 _It brings me great comfort to know that you are so well loved, my Ziva. I may not have always agreed with the choices that you have made, but you have carved out a happy life for yourself at NCIS. If I have not already said, your choice is forgiven, my daughter."_

Ziva fumbled through the kitchen and found a chair, sitting down, tears falling down her face. Her father only wanted forgiveness, something she could never grant him, not anymore. "Abba," she whispered. She didn't have the strength to say any more, but continued reading.

" _Please let Agent DiNozzo know that I welcome him into this family. You have chosen well. Do not seem so surprised, Ziva. I have seen the way you look at him, and he toward you. He will make you happy. I wish that I could have done so, but know that I love you, Ziva, and I approve._

 _Your Father"_

Ziva wiped her eyes, confusion shining through her tears. Tony? He father thought she would marry Tony? It was true that she harbored some feelings for him, but he'd never given her any indication he was interested, and she'd given up waiting for something to happen. _"I have seen the way you look at him, and he toward you."_

As if on cue, Tony walked through the door and into the kitchen, seemingly for some other purpose, but as soon as he spotted her, that purpose was forgotten as he crossed the room toward her.

"Ziva," he began, crouching down to her level. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Tony. I am fine," she stated, wiping her eyes to remove all evidence that there had ever been tears. He raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

"I am just ... overwhelmed. That is all," she added, hoping that he would go away. He tilted his head to the side, again showing that he did not believe her, and wanting her to open up. _Damn him,_ she thought.

"Right," he said, his tone evidence enough that he didn't believe her, but it was clear to him that she didn't want to talk, so he straightened back up and started to walk from the room. It wasn't his place to try to find out what was bothering her anymore, and to pry would be inappropriate now.

"Wait," she said, and he stopped, turning around slowly. He looked at her with concern, hoping that she would not see the regret beyond his worry. But she looked him right in the eyes, trying her best to read his every thought. Concern, yes, but sadness, empathy, and ... love? Was it really there, or had she imagined it? And why was she just now looking for it, when she was not supposed to be?

He stepped back toward her, pulled out the chair next to hers, and sat down, his eyes never leaving hers. The longer she looked, the more she was convinced that her father was right. It was right there in his eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked again, lightly brushing her hand with his.

She debated for a moment, wondering if she should tell him about the letter, especially now. She had been so determined to be happy with Jason, despite the fact that seeing Tony – even after all this time – made her heart ache with longing.

"Talk to me," Tony prodded, and Ziva handed him the letter wordlessly, sitting quietly as he opened it up and scanned the page.

"Um, Ziva, I don't really read Hebrew, you know," he teased, and she chuckled despite the tears in her eyes. He had been learning the language over the past few years, but the alphabet had been giving him a lot of trouble.

"No, you don't," she agreed with a slight smile, and wiped the tear out of her eyes, adding, "it is from my father." She began to read what her father had written, translating as she went along. When she finished, he stared at her, unable to respond.

"Say something," she whispered, looking into his eyes, silently begging him to respond to her father's words.

"I always thought he hated me," Tony joked, trying to lighten the mood. "Welcoming me to the family. Who knew?"

"Tony," she warned, and he sobered up, looking at her earnestly as she reached for the letter, touching his hand instead. "Is it true?"

"Is what true," he stated more than asked, daring her to say it.

"Is it true that…that you _love_ me?" She stared at him hopefully, a tear in her eye threatening to fall as she waited for his response, daring to hope, for the first time in a long time, for happiness, happiness she should not want, not with him, not _now,_ after all this time, after _everything_.

Tony reached to her and wiped the tear from her eye, lightly caressing her cheek as he held her face in his hands. "Always," he said with a sad smile, wishing things could have been different between them, if only he'd spoken up sooner, before it was too late. She closed her eyes, leaning into his hand on her cheek, letting the weight of his word wash over her, wanting desperately to fall into his arms.

"Ziva, are you in–" Jason's voice rang into the kitchen, stopping short when he saw Tony cradling Ziva's face in his hand, looking at her as though he wanted to kiss her. They both turned to meet his gaze, too stunned to speak for a moment, when Tony stood up, defeated, leaving the room without a word.

Ziva choked down a sob she desperately wanted to let out, swallowing the hurt she felt at the way he'd walked away from her, wondering what might have happened if Jason hadn't walked in when he had.

 _Stop it,_ she chided herself, _you are engaged!_

"What was that about?" Jason asked accusingly, putting his arm around her and pulling her to him.

"My aunt gave me a letter from my father, wishing me happiness. It was … touching. Tony was merely telling me not to cry, to be happy," she lied. How could she tell him the truth? How could she tell him that she'd been moments away from falling into another man's arms?

"You guys are awfully close," he said, not for the first time, and Ziva felt the hairs on the back of her neck start to perk up, the way they did when she sensed that an argument was coming.

"We have worked together for a long time," she said smoothly, looking him in the eye and pleading with him to drop it. Jason had never liked Tony, and the feeling had been entirely mutual. Perhaps now she understood why. She'd always thought that Tony was just being petty, had never realized that he was regretting a choice he'd never made.

"I don't think I want you to work with him anymore," came the response, and she sighed, irritated.

"This again?"

"You shouldn't be that close to–"

She interrupted him, her voice low and even, her anger calm and collected. Tony had always said that when she was silently wrathful, she was at her most dangerous. "This is not the time, Jason. We are celebrating our engagement. Or did you forget that I chose to be with you? That I chose to say yes to you? We can talk about this later. Please, drop it."

Ziva stood up and backed away from him, ending the conversation as she left the room, stepping out the back door and onto the patio for some much needed fresh air. Left alone with her thoughts, she let the tears in her eyes cascade down her cheeks as she wondered what on earth she was supposed to do.

* * *

It was well after midnight when the knock came at his door, and although Tony hadn't been sleeping, he couldn't imagine who the hell would have shown up at his apartment in the middle of the night without calling first.

Shuffling to the door in only his boxers, his hair disheveled from lying down on the sofa, he opened the door to Ziva, who was standing with her arms crossed in front of her, looking to him as though she might cry any second.

"What are you doing here?"

"May I come in?" she asked, answering his question with a question, not wanting to talk about it in the hallway of his apartment building.

"Uh, yeah," he replied, standing aside and letting her in, shutting the door behind her.

"I am sorry to come by at such a late hour," she said awkwardly, adding, "I did not know where else I could go."

Tony motioned for her to come into the apartment and sit down, moving the blanket he'd been wrapped up in away from the sofa so she could do so. "You're always welcome here," he said, looking at her earnestly, and he was taken aback when she began to cry, silent tears rolling down her cheeks as she sat down beside him.

"Ziva?" He asked after a few moments, concern causing him to furrow his brow as he watched her silently cry, debating whether he should pull her into his arms and comfort her or let her alone, unable, for the first time, to read her.

Taking a deep breath, Ziva swallowed, looking up at him and saying, "I read Jason the letter."

"I take it that didn't go very well?" he pressed, looking at her intently, wanting nothing more than to pummel this guy for hurting her.

"He began to accuse me of cheating – with you – even though, I … we … we never. He went on this … this _rant …_ about how you were trying to steal me away, like I am some _thing_ that can be stolen, like I cannot be trusted to be loyal, like the fact that 'I have chosen you' means nothing." Tony watched her as she worked through her anger, waiting for her to continue, knowing she wasn't yet done.

"He asked me if I would rather be with you," she finished, looking up and staring into his eyes before continuing, "and I guess I did not answer him fast enough, I was … too stunned … that he would …"

She took a breath, and Tony pushed aside his doubts and pulled her into his arms, letting her cry on his shoulder, still bare after having lain around on the sofa all night since he'd gotten home from the party. "But you _do_ want to be with him, don't you?" he asked after several minutes of holding her, stroking her back gently, almost dreading the answer.

She pulled back, holding him by the arms as she looked at him, and _fuck,_ Tony thought to himself, _this is the moment when she will break me._ "No," she whispered almost inaudibly. Finding her voice again, she continued, "I do not."

"But you–"

"Agreed to marry him, I know," she said with a slight nod, looking straight forward, as if in a daze.

Tony looked at her quizzically, wondering when she was going to start being honest. "Ziva," he breathed, speaking her name like a warning, pleading with her to open up. She took a deep breath.

"I have been wanting to settle down, since I decided to leave Israel and become an American citizen. That much has not changed. I thought that maybe once that happened, things might change. _Us,_ " she clarified, emphasizing the word like it meant everything, and perhaps it _had_. She took a breath before continuing, noting the way his eyes showed a flicker of hope as she spoke. "But nothing changed, and I began to believe that it was hopeless. I did not think you held any feelings for me, if things had not changed, after all this time.

"I decided that I would find a way to be happy, even if I had to give up on … _us,_ " she spoke again, taking a deep breath and collecting her thoughts before she continued, with Tony giving her arms a reassuring squeeze.

"I was determined to find a way to be happy, to make it work with him, but …" She trailed off, taking another deep breath, finding it difficult to speak. "I did not love him," she added finally.

"Ziva," he breathed again, pulling her into his arms and holding her against him, not daring to hope that her next words would be a confession of her feelings for _him,_ not after this emotional rollercoaster of a night.

"My father's letter awoke feelings I thought I had buried, Tony," she whispered against his neck, and he shuddered at the warmth of her breath as she spoke, tightening his arms around her instinctively. _God, she felt so good in his arms,_ he thought, relishing in the feel of her pressed against him, relieved that, for now, he hadn't lost her forever.

She pulled away again, just enough to look him in the eye as she spoke again, "I called off the engagement."

Tony was shocked, unable to find the words to respond, and Ziva continued. "It was not going to work with him, and I should have realized that sooner." She took another deep breath, and she felt lighter somehow, as though a huge weight had been lifted from her. _Perhaps it had been that heavy rock on her hand,_ he thought to himself, trying not to smirk at the thought.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and he really was. He may not have liked the guy, and he may not have wanted to see Ziva marrying him, but Tony really had thought that Ziva was happy, and he felt terrible for her, having to go through this. He hated to see her like this, in pain, crying, despite the fact that she was in his arms, close to him, where – he felt – she should be.

Ziva smiled, the first genuine smile since she'd arrived at his apartment. "Thank you, Tony," she said, wiping her eyes to remove the tears. In truth, she was relieved, but it had been a difficult, emotional day.

He wanted to pull her into him, kiss her like he'd wanted to in the kitchen at the party, hold her close and never let her go, scream from the rooftops that he loved her and he would never be foolish enough to let this chance slip from his hands, but he merely pulled her in for a hug, kissing the top of her head before saying, "You'll find your happiness, someday."

"Someday," she repeated, her smile spreading. "Yes, I suppose that someday, we will."

He stared at her incredulously, wondering if he'd heard her right, as she leaned over and reached for the remote, turning to the movie channel and settling against him. Content to just lie with him for an undetermined amount of time, she snuggled in, letting him wrap his arm around her, secure in the knowledge that she – _they –_ would be fine. Someday.

* * *

 **A lot of angst with a lot of hope. I hope you enjoyed. Reviews are welcome, if you have a moment.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Bonus mini-chapter because I couldn't just leave it alone.**

* * *

She was warm, warmer than she'd felt in a while, tucked snugly under a warm cocoon of blankets and limbs, and she sighed lightly as she sank deeper into the heat, reveling in the comforting nest in her sleepy state.

Ziva had never known just how comfortable Tony could be, and _god,_ he just fit so perfectly against her.

She lifted her head slowly, still fighting the pull of sleep, certain he was not awake, not at whatever absurd hour it was, some unknown film on the television the only illumination of his cozy space. She turned toward him, noting with surprise that he was indeed awake, and he was looking at her intently, almost reverently, and she shivered against him, despite the fact that she was far from cold.

"You are awake," she murmured quietly, almost regretting speaking and breaking this silent spell they were under.

"I haven't been awake long," he responded, a slight smile on his face as he watched her, the very picture of beauty even after a night spent having slept in rumpled clothes on a couch.

"Oh," she responded, settling back down against him, her face slightly turned so that she could see him if they decided to continue talking, but still sleep if they decided to stay put for another few hours. Or an eternity.

He reached over and brushed an errant strand of her hair from her face, lightly touching her skin as he tucked it behind her ear. She shuddered at the contact, so intimate despite everything that had happened, so gentle, so careful. His hand lingered at her hair for just one additional moment before he pulled it away, settling it back around her waist, squeezing her gently.

His eyes never left her face, his gaze strong and intense, and she felt the weight of his stare. "What?" she asked, conscious of the way he regarded her, like she was the most precious thing he had ever laid eyes on.

"Nothing," he whispered, his lips turning into a gentle smile. "Go back to sleep."

"Tony," she warned, looking at him pointedly. How would she possibly sleep with him staring at her like that?

He leaned forward slightly to press a kiss to her forehead, his lips lightly grazing her skin, warm, like the rest of him. She closed her eyes, reveling in the feel of his touch, the tender embrace of his lips a piece of his affection she hadn't known she'd missed until this very moment. "I almost lost you," he spoke softly, a slight crack in his voice, and her heart constricted in her chest at the way he sounded, like it had been killing him, slowly, agonizingly, all this time.

 _Maybe,_ a voice deep inside of her said, _it had been._

 _"Tony,"_ she gasped and she turned her body to face him fully, needing to wrap him in her arms, despite the way half her body hung off the edge of the couch, precariously balanced. She very well might fall.

But Tony would be there to catch her, in more ways than one.

She pulled him close, hugging him tightly, clinging desperately to a dream she'd thought she had let go of, a dream of _him,_ of _them._ "You will never lose me," she promised, her voice a whisper against his cheek, her lips meeting his skin in the barest of featherlight kisses. He tightened his arms around her waist, reveling in the way she felt in his arms, warm and real and _perfect._

"I need you to know," he murmured against her hair, unwilling to pull apart as he spoke, "that I–"

"Shh," she interrupted, not ready to go there yet, not so soon, not while she was still picking up the broken pieces of the life she thought she'd built. "I know, Tony," she whispered, feeling a tear welling up in her eyes. "I know now."

He pulled back just slightly, enough to look at her, to see her face, to gaze upon the honesty in her expression, the utter contentment of knowing, and he trusted. As she trusted him to hold her, to keep her from falling, he could trust her to _know,_ to know that she held his heart, always had. "Okay," he replied, satisfied for the time being. He had time now, a precious commodity, a wondrous miracle in itself. "We have time."

She smiled, giving a slight nod as she settled back against him. "We do indeed," she affirmed, and closed her eyes against him as he held her in his arms, breathing his scent and listening to his heart beating as it lulled her to sleep.

* * *

 **Okay, I'm really done with this fic now. I promise.**


End file.
